Just Dance
by A Winter Dreamer
Summary: Alfred F. Jones knows he's clumsy. He knows he can't dance to save a life, and he dreads the fact that he'll be expected to dance at his engagement party with his fiancée, who his parents chose for him. But the tutor his parents found, Arthur Kirkland, the "perfect gentleman," is as irritating as he is interesting, and Alfred realizes he may be able to help him escape his fate...
1. Step 1

_Hi everyone! This is more lighthearted than some of my other stories, so it was fun to write. I hope you enjoy the first chapter!_

 _The chapters alternate between Alfred's and Arthur's point of view, beginning with Alfred's!_

 _Please remember to review and let me know your thoughts!_

* * *

"So this is...uh...Arthur?"

"Yes, Alfred," his mother sighed, brushing her hair over her shoulder impatiently. "Your engagement party is in three months. You know that! And I can't have you making a fool of yourself in front of everyone. _Especially_ Natalia's parents. They already don't think well of you, and I can't have you adding to that."

"I know, but it isn't a big deal; I mean, she's not marrying me for my crazy dance skills..." Alfred protested, pouting slightly. "I'm barely twenty. This whole thing is messed up. Besides, you told me you only got married to Dad when you were -"

"Yes, but not just _any_ twenty year old," his father cut in sternly. "You will inherit the company, and you need a strong partner to take some of that weight. A good woman, with an intelligent head on her shoulders. Like your mother. Besides, you've met Natalia before. She's a beautiful, smart... _passionate_ woman."

"She's three years _older_ than me, Dad! It's just too awkward!"

And _passionate_ was an understatement. Natalia kind of scared Alfred, and that was saying something.

"The only one who's _awkward_ is _you_ , Alfred. Now, no more of this talk," his mother said strictly. "You will meet with Arthur today at five PM sharp. I've heard he's extremely punctual -"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Alfred frowned. "He's perfect, he's everything you ever wanted me to be, I get it. Punctual, the _perfect_ gentleman. Whatever."

His father frowned, and Alfred shrunk back a bit.

"We love you, Alfred," his mother said softly. "You understand that, yes?"

It was the tone she had used with Alfred as a child, the tone she used when she was coaxing him gently. When she wanted him to feel safe and comfortable.

"I know," Alfred sighed. "I love you guys too."

"Okay," his mother said, smiling. "So go try out those dance shoes we got you. You don't have anything else today."

"Okay," Alfred said sullenly as he dragged himself off the sofa. He went up the stairs to his room, feeling horrible as he slammed the door behind him.

The whole situation was damn _frustrating_.

He looked down and found that he had kept the profile of Arthur in his hand. He stared at it again, frowning to himself.

The guy was a Brit named Arthur Kirkland. He had shaggy blond hair that was lighter than his own, with green eyes and pale skin. He wasn't smiling at the camera when the photo was taken.

He was probably some stuck up grouch who just _happened_ to know how to dance.

But according to his parents, the guy was a perfect gentleman, freshly imported from England by his father, who was Alfred's father's business associate and friend.

This entire thing was ridiculous. He didn't want to be bossed around by some angry dude with an accent, and he didn't want to be forced into a marriage when he barely knew and definitely didn't love the girl!

It was as if he had just stepped into a soap opera or TV drama. Except he was the victim, not the cool hero who got the girl he _loved_.

He tossed the photo of Arthur onto his bed with disdain, and sat down at his desk, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

He opened his laptop, seeing his screensaver of Captain America smiling at him with a thumbs-up sign.

 _Yeah, right._

He shut it quickly, spinning around in his chair.

At least Captain America was able to fall in love.

Alfred just...he just never found anyone that really _clicked_.

Alfred just wanted a girl who made him _excited_ , who was all about having fun and helped him get his mind off things. Obviously, he needed an ideal relationship where he would be the hero, and they never argued, and she was super cute and nice and helpful.

Alfred wasn't too picky when it came to girls. Sure, it would be nice if she were hot, but he cared more about personality. He didn't want anyone too demanding, or clingy, or annoying. Or strict, or stern, or inflexible...

Okay, maybe he was _kind_ of picky.

He just wanted someone fun-loving, like he was.

Like he _wanted_ to be, at least. But it was tough being fun-loving while being his father's son.

Because his father wanted someone straitlaced and serious, someone who was ready to assist and take over the company one day, someone who was exactly the opposite of Alfred.

And having someone else's dream forced on him suffocated his ability to nurture his own.

He didn't even think about it anymore.

What he dreamt about doing.

Even thinking about it made him sick, like a tantalizing burger that he was never allowed to have...

He groaned, hitting his forehead on the chair.

He looked up miserably at his clock.

 _4:32._

Great. He would probably have to leave in 10 minutes to make sure he didn't disappoint this Arthur guy who apparently couldn't _stand_ late people.

Ugh.

He _knew_ they weren't going to get along.

* * *

Arthur's house was fairly large.

Then again, he wouldn't expect anything else of his father's friend. Apparently, Arthur lived in England with his mother, but he had come over to spend the summer in the United States.

He knocked on the door hesitantly, running a hand through his hair to make sure it was set in place.

Except that annoying cowlick. It was the one part of Alfred that symbolized everything his father hated about him.

It was defiant and wouldn't stay in place.

The door opened fairly quickly, and he looked down to find a man, a bit shorter than him, judging him with cold, green eyes.

"Ah. You must be Alfred."

"Oh, hey. And you're, uh...Arthur."

He thought he saw Arthur wrinkle his nose at him briefly, but he could have just imagined it. Either way, he felt like Arthur didn't look too impressed.

Damn it, why did he have to _impress_ the guy anyway?

"Yes. Well, come in."

His voice was hard. Forced.

Maybe they both didn't want to do this anyway.

Alfred walked in, and Arthur immediately frowned.

"You're not going to remove your shoes?"

"Oh, uh...sorry."

Alfred quickly backpedalled, taking off his shoes quickly and walking in again with a small, embarrassed smile.

"Hm. Better." Arthur spun around and walked down the hall, turning towards a room to the right. He opened the door and went in without a word to Alfred.

Alfred would have spent time gaping at the gorgeous interior, but he knew Arthur would probably yell at him again so he rushed over to the room, quickly opening the door and almost bumping into Arthur.

"Oh! Sorry -"

"Do you have no self control?" Arthur inquired caustically, his thick eyebrows furrowed.

Alfred was happy to know Arthur had something off with him. Like Alfred's cowlick. He stored it in his memory in case he needed something to pick on Arthur for later.

"Hey, I said sorry," Alfred argued with a frown.

Arthur sighed, clearly unimpressed.

"I said -"

"I heard what you said, Alfred Jones. Are you ready to begin the lesson or not?"

"Did I do something to offend you?" Alfred asked bluntly, staring at Arthur.

Arthur took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Not yet," Arthur said, his chin tilted upwards. "But we shall see."

He walked across the wooden floor of the empty room, and Alfred saw a small CD player in the corner of the room on a chair.

"No _way_! Those still exist?"

"Amused, are you?" Arthur said, and Alfred thought he detected a hint of irritation in his voice.

God, was there anything that he said that _didn't_ piss the guy off?

At this point he just wanted to go home.

But he knew his parents would kill him if he didn't try.

"So, what kind of dance are you gonna teach me?"

Arthur turned around, tilting his head slightly.

"You don't know what you want me to teach you?"

"Uh...dance?"

Arthur groaned, pressing his hand to his forehead.

"Uh...I dunno. Ballroom dance? That's what I need to learn for the engagement, anyway."

"What kind of girl is she?" Arthur inquired, gazing at Alfred. Alfred stiffened, and he saw that Arthur noticed. He tried to relax again.

"S-She's great," Alfred managed. "Uh...pretty. Interesting."

Arthur frowned slightly.

"Are you having issues with her?"

Arthur immediately covered his mouth with his hand as Alfred gaped at him.

"I'm sorry. Pardon me. That was insensitive."

"How could you tell?"

Arthur looked up at him, surprised.

"You don't mind me asking?"

"No, I mean, I don't really..." Alfred trailed off. "Um...actually, second thought, I probably shouldn't be telling anyone, but since you already asked, she's -"

"No need, then. Forget I said anything," Arthur said quickly, coughing.

"I really don't mind -"

"I don't care," Arthur cut him off harshly. "I assume a simple waltz will suffice?"

Alfred felt hurt, but he was determined not to show it. Not to give Arthur the satisfaction, because he was a heartless monster and he hated him.

"Yeah, whatever."

Arthur's mouth twitched.

"Whatever?"

He probably shouldn't have said that.

Alfred gulped as Arthur walked over to him slowly, his eyes ice. Alfred backed up a bit until he was in the doorway.

"Perhaps you need a while to gather your...thoughts. If you have any," Arthur said slowly, his voice low. "Until then, I suggest you stop wasting your time and mine."

"Wait, wait, _wait_!" Alfred exclaimed before Arthur shut the door on him. "I'm sorry! I just...uh, I'm not good at communicating with people."

Which was a lie. But he hoped Arthur would hate him slightly less.

Alfred's heart sunk as Arthur's frown grew larger, and he knew he was in deep water.

"So you mean to tell me that the heir to the Jones' multi-million dollar company, who had the best education in the entire bloody country, who was surrounded by the most affable friends and family in the nation, and who excelled in practically anything he did _including_ going and making connections at exclusive parties, is _not good at communicating with people_?"

"..."

Arthur sighed, closing his eyes.

"You don't deny it."

"What?"

He opened his eyes again, and Alfred noticed that while they were still cold, they seemed to have something else in them as well. Curiosity wasn't the right word, but...

"Forget it. Come back when you have some semblance of what you need to learn."

"No, wait...what do you mean when you said I didn't deny it?"

"You accept the rumors?"

Alfred frowned.

"No. But you seemed so bent on believing them anyway that I thought it wasn't worth my time to try," he bit back, relieved that he was able to muster up some sort of counter attack to Arthur's assault.

"Is that what you think of me?" Arthur asked, his voice even. Dangerously calm.

"That's _exactly_ what I think," Alfred responded without thinking.

"Then I suppose you do, in fact, have communication problems, Alfred. But you will have to hire another tutor for that."

"What?" Alfred exclaimed, glaring at the smaller man. How _dare_ he say that to him?

"You _can_ afford it, can't you?"

"Okay, look, I don't know who forgot to put sugar in your damn tea this morning, but -"

"Oh, how did you know?" Arthur asked sarcastically, putting his hands on his hips. "Did Mummy tell you that the big mean Englishman needs a spoonful of sugar?"

"Okay, I call her _Mom_ like normal people, not _Mum_ or _Mummy_ or whatever the hell you just said."

"And is _Mom_ aware that she sent her son out the door without his dancing shoes?"

Alfred stopped, his eyes narrowed.

"How do you know I forgot my dance shoes?"

"Lucky guess," Arthur smirked. "Though I can't say I'm surprised."

Okay. If he hated Arthur before, he _really_ despised him now.

"Oh? And does knowing every damn thing about everyone make you feel _better_ about yourself?"

"Infinitely," Arthur replied smugly.

And suddenly Alfred was a teenager again, barreling into Arthur furiously as the two toppled to the ground, Alfred on top.

"W-What the bloody hell are you doing?" Arthur hissed, his eyes glowing with rage as he tried to punch Alfred's chest. But Alfred quickly caught his fist in his hand, a victorious smirk on his face.

"Hah! _No_ _w_ who's on top?"

Arthur groaned as he struggled to free his hand.

"W-Whatever, Alfred, just get _off of me_ -"

"Whatever?" Alfred mocked, his eyes wide. "What did you say again? Oh...do you need a while to _gather your thoughts_?"

"Alfred," Arthur said, his voice deadly, "If you do not get off of me this instant -"

"What are you gonna do?" Alfred teased, enjoying the moment immensely.

But when the victorious feeling wore off, he realized that Arthur was kind of red. And...sweating, a bit.

Alfred dismissed it immediately, thinking it was no big deal. Arthur was probably weird.

"I won't teach you how to bloody dance, and I won't be _able_ to in a few minutes if you don't remove yourself immediately!"

"Aww. Backing out?"

Arthur was furious at this point, but Alfred was past being scared and past caring.

Until he realized that Arthur's cold mask was broken.

Was he... _wincing_?

"Hey, dude, are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine, if you'll _get off_."

Alfred quickly stood up, and he immediately understood the problem.

He had tripped over and crushed Arthur's foot when they fell.

And his ankle was swelling up.

A _lot_.

"Oh, _shit_."

"Indeed," Arthur said grimly, biting his lip as he slowly sat up, drawing his foot in to him as he examined it.

"H-Hey," Alfred said as he bent down in front of Arthur. "I-I didn't mean to -"

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked distractedly as he rolled up his pant and pulled down his sock.

"Of course!" Alfred exclaimed as he frowned. "Why the hell would I do that on purpose?"

"Sarcasm," Arthur explained tersely as he prodded his ankle. He winced, and quickly rolled up his sock and pulled down his pant again. He finally looked up at Alfred, his eyes weary. Calm.

Completely the opposite of the pain he must be going through.

"I-Is it sprained? Or worse?" Alfred asked, his eyes wide with worry.

"It is _none of your business_ ," Arthur corrected derisively, shooting him a glare as he tried to stand up. Alfred immediately rushed to his side, but Arthur waved him off.

"Hey, I know that you hate me, but you can at least accept my help when you need it!"

"You should not assume things," Arthur said, giving Alfred a long look before he shooed him away again.

Alfred frowned. So...did that mean that he didn't hate him? Or that he didn't need help?

Arthur hobbled over to the chair in the corner, sighing as he sat down. He fiddled with the CD player a bit before sighing again.

"Is the room getting warm?" he asked, and Alfred frowned.

"Uh...no, but..."

"Oh."

Arthur was sweating a lot now, and his face was flushed.

"Hey, Arthur, I don't think you're okay..."

"Perfectly fine. Now, a waltz, was it?"

"Uh. No."

Alfred strode over to him, his hands on his hips. "I'm gonna get you some ice. Can you tell me where the kitchen is?"

"Over there," Arthur mumbled.

"What?"

Arthur groaned, trying to stand up.

"Yeah, you might wanna show me. I might get lost in this huge house of yours."

"'Course you will," Arthur groaned, and Alfred smiled slightly.

"Yeah, yeah."

He looped Arthur's arm over his shoulder, helping him stand up.

He thought he saw Arthur's face get redder, but he wasn't sure.

"You sure you're okay for this?"

"Perfectly," Arthur said through gritted teeth. He took a step forward, and Alfred matched his pace, following his lead.

"No, stop," Arthur said, strained, and Alfred stopped, frowning.

"H-Hey, if you can't do this, then it's fine -"

"No, you're going to be leading," Arthur said, his voice sounding different than normal. Alfred frowned again, confused.

"What?"

"You're the _man_ ," Arthur said irritatedly, looking up at Alfred with pained eyes. "You're going to be leading."

"Uh...what?"

"So lead me," Arthur said, looking forward again.

What on earth was he -

 _Oh_.

Was he talking about the _waltz_? Why on earth was he talking about _dance_ when he sprained his ankle, or worse?

"Uh..."

It would be hard for Arthur to keep up, though. He started walking again slowly, and he was surprised when he found that Arthur followed him, step for step. Well, step for limp.

"Arthur, you really don't have to -"

"You're going slowly because you know I am in pain. You are trying to make it easier on me. I asked you before, and I will ask you again. What kind of girl is she?"

So _that_ was why he asked about Natalia earlier. So that Alfred could lead in a way that matched her personality. It was a form of consideration that he really hadn't thought dance had.

He stared at Arthur in amazement as they exited the room.

"Left," Arthur said tersely, and Alfred turned left, guiding them down the hall again.

"Cross here. Right."

Alfred obeyed without speaking, and after a couple more turns they arrived in a large room that appeared to be the kitchen.

"Thank you," Arthur murmured as he freed himself from Alfred, limping over to the refrigerator.

"Hey, I got you!" Alfred said quickly as he grabbed a handful of ice and slipped it into a plastic bag. He wrapped it in a napkin and pressed it to Arthur's ankle.

"I can do it," Arthur insisted.

"Jesus Christ, can you _please_ stop being so _annoying_?"

Alfred's eyes went wide.

Holy shit. Did he _really_ just say that?

"I'm afraid I can't."

Their eyes met.

And suddenly, they were both laughing.

"No, but _seriously,_ " Alfred pressed after they both calmed down. Arthur had hobbled over to a chair and was pressing the ice bag over his ankle. He looked up at Alfred when he spoke.

"I was dead serious," Arthur said, his face blank. Or was there a small smile on his face?

"It'd be so much easier if you just let me get it for you."

Arthur turned away then, frowning.

God, he was so _stubborn_!

Alfred sighed as he placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur looked up, surprised.

"You're tough," Alfred said, grinning. "I like that."

"Oh. I'm glad," Arthur responded sarcastically, but he was still frowning. "Although I disagree with you."

Alfred paused.

"What?"

"Nothing," Arthur sighed, dismissing the subject.

"Uh, so...now that I busted up your ankle, and all..."

Arthur looked up at him again, amusement in his eyes.

"Yes, now that you gave me a good thrashing, I suppose our lessons may not happen after all. Fancy that."

"But you tried to teach me, didn't you? In the hall?"

Arthur grew red again, and Alfred grinned.

Was he embarrassed? Damn. He was kinda cute.

Wait... _what_?

"I-I did nothing of the sort. Simply a prelude. Hardly worth anything. But if you're so bent on learning, I suppose I can teach you."

Alfred's eyes widened.

"How?"

"Come back in a couple of days," Arthur said, his voice tired again. "Same time."

"What is a 'couple' of days?"

"Do I have to explain _everything_ to you?"

"Yes," Alfred said, grinning. "Twice, please."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Stupid American."

"Stubborn Brit."

He thought he saw a small smile flash across Arthur's face, but it disappeared quickly.

"Okay, so like, in three days?"

"All right."

"Wait, you have to tell me -"

"Three days, Alfred. Enough for you to gather your thoughts, slip on actual dancing shoes, and fix that hair of yours."

Alfred leaned back, offended.

"Hey, my hair is just _fine_ -"

"Does your hair defy gravity?" Arthur asked seriously, and Alfred laughed.

"Yeah, just like me!"

"What you said did not make sense."

"That's what they all say."

"How old are you again?"

"Twenty."

"Hmm."

"You?"

"Twenty-three."

"Whoa!" Alfred said exaggeratedly. "So you're, like, an actual adult."

"Was it not apparent?"

He studied Arthur for a moment, and decided that he wasn't too offended. "Uh, I mean, you just looked younger, I guess."

"Disappointed?"

"No. More like impressed," Alfred said, winking, and Arthur immediately looked away.

Well, this was an interesting start.

He was glad that he didn't hate Arthur as much.

He also felt bad for busting up his foot.

...He _kinda_ deserved it, though.

But, as much as he hated to admit it, he was looking forward to his next lesson with the annoyingly stubborn 'gentleman.'


	2. Step 2

_Onwards to Chapter 2!_

 _Please don't forget to review and let me know your thoughts!_

 _This chapter is from Arthur's POV. The POVs will alternate!_

* * *

Well, it _had_ certainly hurt.

A lot.

But he would never let Alfred know that.

That insufferable, American _idiot_ who had caused this mess in the first place.

Arthur sat on a chair by the door, his back straight as he stared at his wrapped up foot. The doctor had told him a couple days ago that he would need to use crutches for at least a week, and that the excess strain he had put on his foot after the accident had only made it worse.

He had also told Arthur to make sure not to put any more excess strain on his foot and to use his crutches.

But of course, Arthur couldn't afford to do that. He had lessons to teach, after all.

He could make it work. He _had_ to.

They didn't call him Arthur Kirkland for nothing, after all.

He glanced at his watch.

4:58.

Alfred _had_ said three days, hadn't he?

Arthur decided he'd wait another three minutes, and if Alfred showed up after that he wouldn't answer the door. He couldn't respect people who weren't punctual, after all.

He wondered if his father would feel happy, hearing him say that.

But soon enough, there was a knock on the door, and Arthur rose to answer it, wincing as he stood up and put pressure on his foot. He decided not to use the crutches to avoid worrying Alfred.

He couldn't afford to be selfish. He tried to ignore the pain as he limped over to the door, opening it slowly.

"Howdy, Arthur!"

"...Hello, Alfred."

He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, dressed casually, as he waved his extra pair of shoes at Arthur with a grin.

His blond hair practically glowed in the sunlight, and his eyes were a beautiful blue, as always. Arthur wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

"Brought my shoes this time!"

"Hm," Arthur grunted - the only acknowledgment he'd give Alfred.

He opened the door wider to let Alfred in.

"Hey, you shouldn't be standing around like that. Do you have crutches?" Alfred asked, his eyebrows knit in a frown, worried.

"I'll be fine," Arthur said, trying to keep his voice as even and disinterested as possible.

He had long since decided that making Alfred hate him was not the best way to carry out their lessons, although that setup was the easiest on Arthur. Instead, he opted for a cool indifference - after the lessons were over, they would hopefully part as respected acquaintances and nothing more.

"I don't think so..."

"You seem to be thinking a lot of things for someone who still hasn't learned to _take off their shoes at the doorway_."

"You got me," Alfred grinned as he quickly took off his shoes before entering the house again. Arthur shut the door behind him.

"Are you sure you're okay, though?"

"Perfectly," Arthur sighed. Honestly, why did this brat have to pick today of all days to be _especially_ annoying?

"I really think you should get some -"

"How about we make a deal?" Arthur cut in, his voice harsh. Alfred fell silent, staring at him.

"If you can lead me and dance successfully for two minutes without a single mistake, you can leave early _and_ I'll fetch myself a pair of crutches."

Alfred frowned.

"That sounds great and all, but you'll still be dancing with a sprained ankle. Dude, that's gotta hurt."

"It feels like nothing," Arthur lied, gritting his teeth. "So, what do you say?"

"I mean, I'd sure love to try out that new video game early...so, you're on!" Alfred said with a grin.

* * *

Alfred was...certainly enthusiastic. Surprisingly so. Arthur would give him that.

But he was an absolute _mess_ , for lack of a better word.

Arthur was sitting down on a chair, watching as Alfred walked around the room.

He had told him to walk _slowly_ , but Alfred seemed to be rushing as he shuffled clumsily across the room.

He had been walking completely fine in the hallway, so why on earth was he so awkward _now_? Although the exercise was a warm up, it was also for Arthur to study Alfred more in detail - how he carried himself, what kind of quirks or style he had when he walked. It wasn't terribly important, but Arthur thought it beneficial to make small mental notes, as some of Alfred's idiosyncrasies may slip into his dancing.

"Alfred," Arthur interrupted, and Alfred turned to him with wide eyes.

"Uh, yeah?"

"I believe I told you to walk slowly."

"I _am_!"

"Alfred, you're not here to impress anyone. Slowly means _slowly_. Relax. Get used to the room, the space you're going to be using. This is your time to get comfortable."

"Yeah, but I'm just walking normally."

"Alfred, I've seen you walk. That is _not_ how you walk."

Alfred pouted. "Yeah, but I mean, what does this have to do with dance?"

"I just told you to get acquainted with the room. Do as I say or you won't even be home in time for supper, never mind your video game."

Alfred glared at him before walking again, but Arthur noticed, to his satisfaction, that he had slowed down slightly.

Alfred's shoulders slowly dropped as he relaxed more, and he casually strode across the floor. He stumbled less, and he appeared more and more confident as his eyes slowly rose from the floor to focusing on whatever was in front of him. Alfred's hands found their way into his pockets, and Arthur noticed that he had a certain...he hated to use the word, but 'swagger' to his walk. It wasn't obnoxious, like Alfred's voice could be sometimes, but it conveyed a certain sense of confidence that fit Alfred's character perfectly. He didn't have perfect posture by any means - his shoulders were a bit hunched forward, most likely from all the video games and computer games he played - but it was just barely noticeable.

Without a smile on his face, Alfred seemed to be very cool and composed, and he relaxed even more as he took more laps around the room. He stopped looking at Arthur every two seconds with a questioning look on his face like a lost puppy, instead taking the lead himself and getting comfortable with the task.

Arthur couldn't stop the smile that came to his face.

Alfred _could_ do it if he tried. And he wasn't too bad to work with, either.

He let him take a couple of more laps before he stopped him.

"Good, Alfred."

"Yeah, I really needed help in the walking department."

"Shush. Are you ready to learn?"

"Yeah!" Alfred turned to him, a slight smile on his face.

"All right."

Arthur stood up with effort, struggling to ignore the pain as he walked over to Alfred as normally as he could. He noticed Alfred's frown, and he tried to ignore it.

"All right. Do you know anything about waltzes?"

"Uh...fancy music?"

"..."

Arthur groaned, and Alfred laughed at him.

"It isn't funny. Now, there are many different kinds of waltzes, and since your parents seem not to care, I will begin by teaching you the most basic."

"Isn't there, like, an _American_ waltz?" Alfred asked curiously, most likely in an attempt to be funny, and Arthur stared at him.

"...There is, actually," Arthur said with a small smile. "The standard International waltz is completely closed, but the American style waltz allows for more...how would you phrase it... _freedom_."

"I _knew_ it!" Alfred grinned. "What do you mean by 'closed?'"

Arthur rolled his eyes before clearing his throat. "Let's start from the beginning."

Alfred nodded.

"A waltz is one of the most typical ballroom dances. It's in three, and -"

"What do you mean by three?" Alfred interrupted immediately.

"...Have you taken music lessons?"

"Uh...at school, maybe. Ohhh, you mean like 3/4 time?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded, relieved.

That was another headache he did _not_ want to go through.

"Lucky for you, the waltz isn't that difficult to master. It is as easy or as hard as you make it, and allows for a lot of freedom and creativity. Of course, there are different types of waltzes; the American waltz, as I mentioned earlier, is a popular example."

Alfred nodded again, grinning now.

"Are you paying attention?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay...In any case, as you know, the man leads. For your lessons, although we are both men, I want you to lead."

"Aww...can't do it with that foot, can you?" Alfred asked, winking, and Arthur felt his face flush slightly.

He hoped Alfred didn't notice.

"And whose fault is that?" Arthur hissed, and Alfred held up his hands in surrender.

"Anyway," Arthur continued, "The first step is becoming accustomed to the music."

Arthur walked over to the CD player, turning it on, and soon music reverberated across the room.

It was typical ballroom dance music.

"Tap your feet to the rhythm. One, two, three, one, two, three...like this," Arthur said, sitting down again as he tapped his good foot on the floor.

Alfred frowned, waiting for a while before he tapped his foot. But he missed the obvious beat, and there were times when he looked like he might trip, although Arthur didn't know how it was possible.

"All...right," Arthur said after a while. He changed the song, but Alfred was always early or late on the beat.

He turned the CD player off, stunned.

How could _anyone_ have such a terrible music sense? How was he even able to pass his music classes?

He looked up at Alfred, who seemed to guess his thoughts.

"No good?" Alfred asked with a small smile.

"N-No, you're all right," Arthur said, frowning slightly.

How else could they go about it? If he couldn't tap his foot to the beat, there was no way he'd be able to sway his body to it...

Arthur turned it on again and acted as an example, tapping his foot perfectly and making sure it was loud enough for Alfred to hear.

"Tap with me," Arthur said, and Alfred tapped with him, in sync with both Arthur and the music.

"Hm. Good."

"Great!" Alfred grinned.

Arthur stopped tapping, and Alfred instantly fell off the beat, creating a rhythm of his own.

"..."

Arthur began tapping again, loud enough for Alfred to hear, and Alfred instantly matched his tapping. Arthur continued for a while, frowning slightly, before he stopped. This time, Alfred was able to keep up the beat for a while before he fell slightly off again, but not as much as before.

Arthur changed the song again, tapping to the beat. Alfred copied him, and when Arthur stopped Alfred was able to keep up the beat again. He changed pieces yet again, this time allowing Alfred to try on his own, and although he was still slightly off it was better than before.

Well, Arthur had his work cut out for him, that was for sure.

But they didn't call him the perfect gentleman for nothing.

He was going to make sure that Alfred Jones was the best bloody dancer on the dance floor.

* * *

All in all, it took Arthur around an hour to accustom Alfred to the kind of music he'd be hearing, as well as get him to pick out the beat and tap his foot to it.

"Very good, Alfred," Arthur sighed, feeling a headache come on.

He turned off the CD player, glad to have accomplished something.

At least the lad learned quickly.

"So, Alfred, your assignment for the week is to listen to more ballroom music."

"Aw, man, I have _assignments_?"

"Yes," Arthur said, narrowing his eyes. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, no...uh, hey, I know you're injured and all, but..."

Arthur looked at him, tilting his head slightly.

"I was wondering if...if we could meet more than once a week?"

Arthur froze.

Honestly, Alfred was impossible to predict. First he hated Arthur, didn't care at all about dance, and now he wanted to have _more_ lessons than previously scheduled?

"I-I know that my parents are paying you, so I can ask them to -"

"They're not paying me," Arthur interrupted. "I'm doing this for free."

Alfred gaped at him.

"You're kidding."

"I'm afraid I'm not."

"But...but..."

"Oh, so the big cold Englishman can't do something out of the kindness of his heart?" Arthur responded sarcastically, sighing as he fidgeted with the CD player.

"I didn't say that," Alfred said softly, looking at the floor.

Arthur sighed.

Everything constantly screamed for him to push Alfred away, but he had forgotten that the American had done nothing to deserve it. It was all Arthur's problem and Arthur's problem alone, after all.

"I know. I apologize."

"No problem, buddy."

"I'm not your 'buddy.'"

"Bud?"

"What?"

Alfred laughed, shaking his head.

"Never mind."

"But the answer to your question is yes," Arthur said after a while, looking at Alfred. "Just give me a ring whenever you want a lesson."

Alfred's eyes widened, and he suddenly burst out laughing. Arthur stared at him, confused.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh my...oh, Jesus, sorry Arthur, I just..." Alfred guffawed, wiping tears from his eyes. "Okay. Okay, I'm good."

"What the bloody hell was that all about?"

"No, you meant phone call, right?"

"...Yes, that's what I said."

"No...no, it's nothing," Alfred said, a small grin on his face. "But can I text you too?"

Arthur blinked.

"I suppose you can."

"Sweet! What's your number?"

Arthur slowly stood up, and Alfred rushed to his side, a tentative hand on his arm.

"I told you, I don't need your help."

"And I told _you_ to stop being annoying."

Arthur sighed.

But he didn't push Alfred away.

* * *

They made their way to the living room, and Arthur took his phone off the table.

"Here," he said, showing it to Alfred. Alfred eagerly copied down the number, then showed Arthur his own.

"So, like, what times are good for you?"

"Afternoons are convenient."

"Great! So is three good?"

"Is five too late for you?"

"No, I was just thinking...if I'm gonna get anywhere with this, we should probably meet for longer."

Arthur looked up at him, surprised.

Then suspicious.

"You seem a lot more...enthusiastic compared to our last meeting," Arthur commented, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Alfred stared at him before grinning.

"Yeah, well, I realized something."

"What did you realize?"

"It's a secret," Alfred teased. "Uh, so, should I get going?"

"Not unless you wanted some late afternoon tea," Arthur responded sarcastically, but Alfred took him seriously.

"Do you have coffee?"

"...I might."

"Can I have that? I'll go get it!" Alfred exclaimed, rushing away to the kitchen.

Arthur sat down on the couch, stunned.

Had he just invited the obnoxious American who hated him to _tea_ , of all things?

* * *

"So, how long have you been in the States?"

"Not too long. It's a vacation, of sorts. My father's been busy with work here, as you know, and he decided to bring me along."

"Huh. So you grew up in England?"

"Yes. I spent my teenage years in London," Arthur said with a small smile. "Though my family is from the countryside."

"So, uh...they teach you all that gentleman-y stuff there?"

Arthur's lip twitched.

"Perhaps. Though the influence is mostly my father's."

"So he taught you everything?"

"No," Arthur said after a while. "It was mine to learn, through trial and error. Though none of that matters now."

Alfred leaned forward slightly, frowning.

"What does that mean?"

"What does _what_ mean?"

"I dunno, you just seemed..." Alfred waved his hand in the air.

"It's all silly, isn't it?" Arthur asked, a small smile on his face. "Roles. Expectations." He clamped his mouth shut before he went any further.

Honestly, had he lost his _mind_? And Alfred was the last person he should be discussing his personal life with!

"And yourself? What have you been doing?" Arthur asked quickly in an effort to distract Alfred.

"Trying to avoid Natalia," Alfred admitted, making a disgusted face. "Like, she's great and all, but I'm _really_ not into that."

Arthur chuckled.

"Oh? And what _are_ you into?"

"Curious?" Alfred asked, winking, and Arthur looked down immediately.

"Well, I'll tell you."

"I don't care," Arthur said immediately.

Defensively.

And he'd never admit that it hurt him to say that.

"Well, uh...just in case you wanna know, for later...I like not-crazy chicks. Lighthearted, fun, not too stingy or overly-attached..."

"Hm," Arthur said, a sound of acknowledgement.

From what Francis had told him, he was the _exact opposite_ of that. Insecure, a terrible drunk, and _definitely_ way too attached although he pretended not to be. Rarely lighthearted, _definitely_ not fun...

He laughed inside at how ill-suited they were for each other.

"Well, perhaps Natalia is more than you think she is," Arthur said thoughtfully. "Maybe she's just shy in front of you."

"No, I mean..." Alfred shuddered. "She's _way_ too... _not_ -shy. She's either hanging all over me or glaring daggers at me, and she has this weird obsession with her brother...I really can't tell whether she wants to marry me or him."

Arthur wrinkled his nose.

"Her _brother_?"

"Yeah, this dude called Ivan? _Totally_ psycho. And he's creeped out by her too, but he's super protective at the same time, and I keep getting these threats in my inbox..." Alfred shook his head, distressed. "Their entire family is a mess. Except for Kat. She's all right. Honestly, I'd pick Kat over Natalia just because she's the only normal one..."

Arthur looked up, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"That's quite a mess you found yourself in."

"I _know_ , right?" Alfred sighed. "Honestly, nobody gets it! I tried complaining to Matthew, but he just thinks I'm lucky. Getting to inherit the company, marry a hot rich chick..."

It made sense. It seemed like Alfred had everything.

But Arthur could tell now that he was the opposite.

He was lost, confused, and didn't want any of the responsibility forced on him.

"Still, an arranged marriage in this day and age," Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what to say."

"Hey, thanks for listening, though," Alfred said with a small smile.

Arthur frowned.

"Did you try talking to your parents?"

"Yeah, but uh...they won't really listen. Too dead-set on this alliance, you know?"

"And I assume Natalia won't listen?"

"You got that right."

Silence fell as Arthur stared at the ground, gripping his teacup.

A mess, indeed.

* * *

"Alfred, it's only been a day..."

Arthur had heard a knock on the door at three, and opened it to find Alfred, buzzing with excitement, as he hurriedly took off his shoes and rushed in.

"I know, but I just _had_ to see you again - I mean, for the lessons!"

Arthur frowned. "Yes, but are you sure you want to -"

"Totally! Let's go for it!"

Arthur sighed as he followed him to the dance room.

"Today, we're going to work on the basic steps."

"Got it."

"You don't have to respond every time I say something."

"Got it."

Honestly, did that twat listen at _all_?

"What did I _just say_?"

Alfred chose now of all times not to respond, and sometimes Arthur wondered whether he tried to make him angry on purpose.

"Anyway," Arthur continued, sighing, "I hope you recall how I made you walk around the room yesterday. I want you to take that same ease and confidence and begin the waltz with your left foot, stepping forward. I want you to learn the movements first, and then you will dance with a partner."

"You mean, you."

"Yes," Arthur said, putting his hands on his hips.

He had loaded up on painkillers and wrapped extra tape around his foot so he was ready, but he could still feel the pain.

"Uh...okay."

"Step forward."

Alfred stuck out his left foot, but it didn't go straight.

Arthur sighed.

This was going to be a _long_ lesson.

* * *

"Alfred...I said your _left_ foot."

Two hours later, Arthur was still teaching him the basic form and moves.

Alfred was unbelievably clumsy, and there were times when Arthur considered giving up.

But he didn't.

"...close your feet, now... _close_ , Alfred!"

Alfred stumbled, tripped, and fell, landing on his chest.

"Oww!"

"Oh, bloody - are you all right?"

It was the fifth time he had fallen in the past hour.

"Arthur, I'm hopeless," Alfred groaned as he sat up, a large frown on his face. "This is dumb."

"Nonsense," Arthur said immediately, pulling him up. He was slightly taken aback by Alfred's strength as he hoisted himself up, but he said nothing as he let go of Alfred's hand and took a step back.

"Thanks," Alfred said, smiling down at Arthur as he dusted himself off.

"Look, you're a great teacher - maybe I'm just not meant for this -"

"I will not hear those words from your mouth again, understood?"

Alfred stared at him.

"Okay."

"Good."

Arthur paused, thinking.

"Watch me," he said slowly, demonstrating the movements he had told Alfred to do. He had done them before, as an example, but this time he danced the woman's part.

"See how I step back here? That's where you are. You lead. Where you step, I follow."

He slowly made his way across the room, dancing with a ghost as Alfred followed him around. "See here? My slide matches yours. Now I step back here, again...and I rise when you rise. I fall when you fall."

They made eye contact suddenly, and Arthur looked away, clearing his throat as he slid to a stop.

"A-Anyway, there you have it. Now, we will dance. Together."

Alfred's eyes widened.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna hurt your other foot -"

"Just dance, Alfred," Arthur groaned. Alfred stood in front of Arthur as he took his hand and put his other hand around Arthur's waist.

Arthur flushed slightly as he put his hand on Alfred's shoulder, and internally scolded himself for getting embarrassed suddenly.

"All right," he said. "Now move."

"Can you start?"

" _Alfred_."

Alfred frowned as he moved forward, jerkily, suddenly, and he almost stepped on Arthur's bad foot.

But Arthur moved back swiftly, matching him.

"There. Was that so bad?"

Alfred's eyes widened.

"You're amazing, Arthur!"

"That was nothing," Arthur scoffed. "Keep going."

Alfred's grip on Arthur's waist and hand tightened as he moved his foot to the side.

Again, Arthur matched him.

They were going at a snail's pace, but Alfred was doing exponentially better with Arthur than without.

"Can I turn?" Alfred asked, and Arthur raised an eyebrow. Alfred grinned as he slowly made his way across the room, turning and gliding whenever he saw fit.

And Arthur followed him, surprised as Alfred took more and more risks.

As Alfred began to bend his knees more, to rise and fall, Arthur followed, until Alfred suddenly tripped.

And fell over.

Onto Arthur.

Alfred landed on his hands, staring down at Arthur with wide, apologetic eyes.

"Shit. Sorry, Arthur, I keep doing this to you..."

It only took three seconds of eye contact before the two broke into laughter.

"Bloody _hell_ , Alfred..."

Arthur felt tears come to his eyes, but he couldn't stop laughing.

And when he finally recovered, he was staring up into endless blue...

And wait, why was Alfred leaning down...he was close.

Too close.

"A-Anyway, Alfred," Arthur said quickly, tapping Alfred's chest lightly. "You didn't crush my other foot this time. Good work."

Alfred grinned.

"Hey, I try."

"One more favor?"

"Yeah?"

" _Get off of me_."

Alfred laughed again as he helped Arthur up.

"So, how was I?"

Arthur smiled. Genuinely.

"You were all right, you twat. Keep working on it."

Alfred grinned.

"So, can I come back tomorrow?"


	3. Step 3

_Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoy the next chapter._

 _Please don't forget to review!_

* * *

Alfred didn't know how to explain it.

He was hopeless alone, that he knew for sure.

But with Arthur, it was different.

It was weird. _Alfred_ was the one who was supposed to be leading, who was supposed to be dominant and in control. But even though he was physically leading Arthur, he felt like Arthur was the one leading him. Through support, subtle gestures...

It was _really_ weird. But not in a bad way.

It had been two weeks since Alfred started lessons with Arthur, and he had come almost every day to the mansion.

Progress was...well, definitely slow. Alfred couldn't turn into a superstar over night.

But Arthur was extremely, unbelievably patient, even when Alfred was getting sick of himself.

"Shoot, sorry!" Alfred exclaimed, stepping on Arthur's foot for the fourth time that lesson as a result of his reminiscing.

"Pay attention, you twat!" Arthur scolded, wincing as he groaned. "You cannot step forward twice."

"I know...sorry...and we were doing so well, too!"

Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

"From the top."

They moved back to the center of the room.

Over the past week, he'd gotten used to the feeling of Arthur's body.

Okay, not in _that_ way.

But the way Arthur moved, how he carried himself, his perfect posture and his slim waist...

Alfred shook his head vigorously as Arthur stared at him.

He _needed_ to stop getting distracted.

"Are you all right? Do you need a water break?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Okay," Arthur said cautiously. "Then let's try putting everything together. I want you to take me around the room."

"Got it."

"But not me as in _me_ ," Arthur went on, and Alfred stared at him in confusion.

"Let me explain. Up until now, you've been dancing with me, correct? Hopefully you've understood some semblance of my style and character."

Alfred nodded, his thoughts drifting again before he pulled them back.

"Good. And you've been careful around my foot, choosing movements that allowed for the least strain. Again, I'm impressed with that."

"Aw, shucks."

"Shut it. But you're not going to be dancing with me forever. So, utilizing the information you've given me so far about your betrothed, I'm going to pretend to be her, and I want you to treat me like her."

Arthur tried to step away then, but Alfred didn't let go of his hand.

Arthur looked up at him, confused. Was Alfred imagining that small blush?

"Alfred?"

"Oh! Sorry."

He let go, and Arthur looked away briefly before clearing his throat.

"Okay," he said, looking up at Alfred with a newfound coolness in his eyes. "Begin."

"U-Uh...okay."

"Do not stutter," Arthur cut in immediately. "Be sure of your words. Think before you speak."

"Okay."

"Good. Let's start again." Arthur took another step back. "Begin."

"Natalia," Alfred said in his most gentlemanly voice possible. He saw Arthur's eyes widen for a split second, but he maintained his cool, ambivalent expression. "May I have this dance?" He noticed that his voice was lower than normal, even though it wasn't intentional.

He was two seconds away from cracking up, but he didn't, focusing on Arthur instead.

 _Gotta channel my inner Arthur._

Did he _really_ just think that?

"You may," Arthur said curtly, turning up the volume on the CD player before he approached Alfred, holding out his hand.

Alfred took it in his own, noticing it was warmer than usual.

Alfred felt his heartbeat speed up slightly as he drew Arthur closer to him, and he put his arm on Arthur's waist as Arthur put his hand on Alfred's shoulder. He tried to be as gentle as possible - he noticed sometimes that in past lessons he held Arthur's hand like a lifeboat - and he looked down at Arthur, a small smile on his face.

Arthur usually gave him a look that prompted him to start, and sometimes a small smile if he was lucky, but this time he just gazed up at Alfred with a slightly bored expression. It was also slightly hostile.

 _Exactly_ what Natalia would look like.

He felt a bit intimidated, but slowly took his first step forward.

Compared to how they normally danced, Arthur was a bit slow to respond, almost as if he were surprised by Alfred's step. They quickly dropped into a rhythm, albeit being somewhat jerky.

Because Alfred was alone. All the support, the help from Arthur was gone. Alfred was alone, trying to please Natalia.

 _What would she like_?

Alfred figured she might like something fast, so he tried to speed up and vary his movements more with the music, and he found that Arthur began to synchronize more with him as he increased the difficulty of his moves.

He made the correct decision.

But it felt wrong.

He wanted Arthur. He didn't like trying to impress a girl he never liked.

He wanted to dance with _Arthur_.

Okay, wait. What was he even _thinking_?

Arthur was just some British dude who happened to have a connection with his _father_ , of all people. Well, to be more accurate, Arthur's father had a connection with his father.

There wasn't anything more, was there? Well, they _had_ gotten to know each other fairly well, but...

His lapse of concentration resulted in a stumble and a quick save as the two detached, Alfred breathing hard.

"S-Sorry, I..."

"You're learning," Arthur commented, a small smile on his face.

"Arthur, I..." Alfred stopped. Would he think it was weird for him to say that?

"Yes?"

"Can we take a break?"

"Of course."

Arthur walked towards the door, and Alfred followed him, a brooding frown on his face.

* * *

Alfred slowly drank his coffee, saying nothing as Arthur read through a magazine casually.

Arthur looked up at him, slightly concerned.

"Alfred..."

"Mm-hmm?"

"You're usually done with your coffee in 0.2 seconds. Is something the matter?"

"No, I'm fine. Just been doin' some thinking."

"About Natalia?"

 _Damn_ , Arthur was perceptive.

"Yeah," Alfred admitted. "I just...I dunno...I really don't think we're a good pair."

"And why is that?"

He noticed Arthur's eyes were curious, but there was something else in them that Alfred didn't understand.

Pain? That probably wasn't it.

"I just...like, she's a bit much for me, you know?"

Arthur snorted.

"Seriously! She's way too pushy and bipolar and I really don't..."

"You barely know the girl."

"Yeah, but I know enough. You said yourself, before, that she sounded crazy!"

"I never said that," Arthur defended, frowning slightly. "I merely said she _could_ be too much to handle. But of course, I've never met her, so I don't really know."

"Okay, why are you _defending_ her?"

Arthur put his magazine aside, holding Alfred's gaze.

"I'm not supporting her. Alfred, I'd be unbelievably grateful if your parents would drop this arranged marriage idea permanently. But you yourself told me there was nothing you could do about it, and you don't see any path of action you could take."

"I-I did say that...so help me come up with something?"

Arthur stared at him, blinking.

"Pardon?"

"Help me get out of this! I'm all out of ideas, and you're the only one who can help me!"

"..."

Arthur looked down, his eyes focused on the floor as he frowned.

A couple of weeks ago, Alfred would never have thought that he'd get along with Arthur, that they'd even be _friends_ , or at least friendly enough to ask for advice.

"I-I can't come up with anything practical," he said after a while, averting his gaze. "Especially because of Ivan."

 _Ivan_. That name always made Alfred's blood boil.

To be fair, he only met him twice.

But twice was way more than enough.

Alfred groaned, holding his head in his hands.

"I just don't know what to do..."

He heard a shuffling noise, and then silence. He looked up to find Arthur standing in front of him.

"I said nothing _practical_."

Alfred stared at him.

"I have a...er... _friend,_ if you will. Who happens to be very into...women. And he..."

Alfred laughed. "Dude, who _isn't_ into women?"

Arthur gave him a peculiar look.

"A-Anyway," he continued after a while, and Alfred frowned slightly. "Do you see where I'm heading with this? It would be completely awful for Natalia, but if she's truly in love with her brother and hates you anyway, I doubt it would be an issue. If your side of the marriage is set in stone, perhaps _she_ could convince her father to break it off if she falls for him."

Alfred's eyes widened.

"Dude. You're a _genius_."

"As I said, it isn't practical. If she has a brother complex it's unlikely Francis can seduce her, but..."

"Francis, huh? Where is he?"

"In the area, actually," Arthur said, and frowned immediately. "I really didn't want to meet up with him, but it seems I have no choice..."

"In a fight?" Alfred asked curiously.

"O-Of a sort," Arthur said, coughing into his hand. "A-A bad...err..." He began to blush slightly, and Alfred tilted his head in confusion.

"Yeah?"

"Fight, a bad fight," Arthur said hurriedly. "Never mind that. He was telling me about how he wanted to meet someone new, anyway. It works out perfectly for him. And if this plan does succeed, well then...you won't be needing these lessons after all," he said, with a small smile to Alfred.

But Alfred only saw sorrow in Arthur's eyes, as much as Arthur tried to hide it.

"Hey, I'm still gonna come over here! We're friends now, and I like dancing with you!"

He said it.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly in shock as his face grew even redder, and he immediately furrowed his eyebrows, turning away.

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not! That's why it felt weird earlier. Because I like dancing with _you_ , not her!"

"You've _only_ danced with me, you fool. It's the only style you're used to. You'll change your mind soon enough."

Alfred frowned, standing up.

"Hey, you don't know that!"

"I do."

"No, you don't!"

" _Alfred_ ," Arthur said, looking up at him. "It's all right. You can still come here, whenever you'd like."

"Really? Sweet! Wait, don't distract me! I mean what I said!"

"If you still believe that when all this is over, then I will believe you," Arthur said with finality. "Deal?"

"Fine," Alfred sighed.

He didn't understand why Arthur was so bent on thinking negatively of himself. He had noticed in his lessons, too - occasionally a self-deprecating comment or two would slip out. Why did he talk of himself that way when all Alfred ever heard of Arthur was how perfect he was?

Arthur smiled slightly at him before his eyes fell to the table.

"You know, that plan was uncannily clever for a perfect gentleman like you," Alfred teased.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, I would say the same."

"So, uh...you said your father taught you everything?"

"I believe I did."

"So...so who were you before that?"

He had been wondering for a while. Because underneath everything, all of the shallow labels and stereotypes, he felt that there was a lot more to Arthur that he couldn't understand. That Arthur hid from him.

"A teenager," Arthur responded with a slight smirk. "A stupid, stupid teenager."

"What did you do?"

"What did _you_ do when you were a teen, Alfred?"

"Uh, well I was one until last year...uh. I dunno, a lot of really awesome things and not so awesome things."

"Exactly."

Alfred decided Arthur didn't want him to press further.

And he was okay with that.

For now, at least.

* * *

"So Francis is coming here?"

"Yes, I asked him to meet me here."

"Great!"

They stood by the door, and Alfred practically jumped when he heard a knock.

Arthur walked over slowly and opened the door.

"Arthur, _mon ami et la douleur_!" Francis exclaimed histrionically, and Arthur seemed to regret his decision.

He sighed heavily.

"Hello, Francis."

"You sound as dreadful and depressing as always. And, ah, who is this?" Francis asked as he moved a bit to look at Alfred.

"Alfred Jones. Your client."

"Client? I'm not a gigolo, you know. No payment is expected if I fall for the lovely lady," Francis smiled.

Alfred had a look of shock on his face.

Francis was...a _lot_ to take in.

"Come in," Arthur said, moving so that Francis had space to walk in.

"Lovely place," Francis noted. "It has a certain...modern flair, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Uh, I'm Alfred," Alfred decided to introduce himself quickly.

"I've gathered," Francis said, a small smile on his face. "American?"

"Yep."

"I'm surprised Arthur let you into his house. So? How did you two meet? Tell me _everything_ about your _histoire d'amour_!"

"Francis!" Arthur hissed, blushing slightly. "It's not like that!"

Alfred didn't understand the French words he had said, but he knew it had something to do with love. He also didn't understand why Francis insisted on talking in French when he was pretty sure this was _America_ and he knew that he and Arthur didn't know French.

Well, Arthur probably did. But Alfred didn't.

"Oh, is it not?" Francis looked baffled. "Then why are you helping him escape his arranged marriage?"

"Because the poor man doesn't _want_ to get married!"

"So what is in there for you?" Francis questioned.

"I...I won't have to see his life fall to shambles," Arthur said honestly, frowning. "Honestly, not everything has to be for profit."

"Very well, very well. You're touchy on the subject, aren't you? Well, Alfred. Tell me about this Natalia."

"She's, uh...well, she's pretty. Elegant. Uh...she's very passionate. And kinda...weird. And scary."

Francis looked taken aback.

"How can any beautiful lady be scary?"

"Uh...she's...I mean, sometimes she acts like she's okay with me, but sometimes she goes totally berserk and clings to her brother."

"Perhaps she doesn't trust you, then? Maybe she's clinging to her brother for support, because she doesn't think you'll give her that?" Francis offered, frowning slightly.

"Hey! I can _totally_ give her support -"

"Yes, support in the form of _another man_? She knows you don't love her, Alfred. That's probably why she prefers her brother over you. Because her brother will unconditionally love her, while _you_..."

Well, he hadn't thought about it that way.

But he didn't _want_ to show that he loved her because he _didn't_!

"But I don't love her," Alfred admitted. "See the issue?"

"Yes, I do," Francis sighed. "Very well. Francis will see what he can do," he said, turning and winking at Arthur.

Arthur glared at him.

"Just...just, if she isn't interested, don't pursue it, Francis."

Francis chuckled.

"We'll see."

* * *

It had been a week since Francis had promised to meet Natalia.

Alfred and Arthur were sitting together in the living room, as per usual.

"So what if this plan doesn't work? _Then_ what?"

"Then _you_ pretend to love someone else," Arthur sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Unless you want to break from the scheme entirely."

"I mean, I dunno how my parents would react to that. Besides, there's not really a girl that I'm close to enough to ask her to pretend to be in love with me."

Arthur sighed heavily.

"Honestly, you've gotten yourself into quite the mess."

"Hey, you're in it, too!"

"I am _not_. I can back out anytime I want. This doesn't have anything to do with me, after all," Arthur said, slightly smug.

"You promised to help me!" Alfred gasped. "When the going gets tough, you just _leave_?"

"Idiot. I did...say I'd help you. But not for you. It'd be a pain for _me_ to have to see you suffer through that," Arthur said, averting his eyes. "Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Alfred said, grinning.

He wished Arthur could be honest.

But he was cute like he was.

... _what_?

Wait...

He turned to Arthur, his eyes wide as an idea formed in his mind, and Arthur faced him, puzzled.

"Arthur...you..."

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, so suddenly and so instantly _defensive_ that Alfred burst out laughing.

"Never mind."

"Never mind _what_?"

Nah, it was a crazy idea. And there was no _way_ Arthur would agree to it.

If anyone was straight, it was Arthur Kirkland. He was too perfect _not_ to be. And he definitely wouldn't want to pretend; it would ruin his image.

His image that he was so concerned about for some bizarre reason.

"Forget about it," Alfred grinned, winking, and Arthur instantly fell silent, looking down again.

"Are you ready to begin again?" Arthur asked after a while, standing up and stretching.

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure -"

The phone went off then, alarmingly loud, and the two exchanged glances before Arthur hurried over to pick it up.

"Hello?" Arthur began, a bit hesitantly, and he instantly winced. A deep frown cast a shadow over his face as he paused for a couple of seconds to hear whoever was on the other end. Alfred frowned, walking a bit closer.

"No, I...yes...fine, really...no, no I didn't...no, not yet...no, I...the lessons? I'm sure I've told you..."

Alfred frowned. It couldn't be Francis, and besides, that reaction was too extreme for Arthur to have if it were really Francis.

"American...yes, your friend...yes, I -"

Suddenly Arthur broke off, a shocked look on his face and clear hurt in his eyes. Alfred always thought Arthur a rather guarded person, and his heartbeat sped up at seeing Arthur look so clearly pained. He frowned as he moved a bit closer, and Arthur instantly looked up to Alfred with wide eyes before biting his lip and looking down again.

"I understand. Yes. I apologize."

More silence. Arthur's lip quivered slightly, before his whole body went rigid and his expression blank.

Alfred felt anger flare at whoever was causing Arthur to become like this, but he knew he had to wait.

"Busy...I apologize, yes, I know...yes, I've told...yes... _bloody hell_!" Arthur burst out suddenly, his face suddenly livid with rage. "Why in the world would you even begin to _think_ something like that, you complete -" Arthur clamped his mouth shut, reddening slightly as his eyes widened. Whether it was in shock, regret, or fear, Alfred didn't know.

"...Yes. Yes, I accept...all responsibility. Yes. Yes, I understand."

More silence. Alfred inched closer to Arthur, worried.

"Goodbye -" Arthur's eyes met Alfred's then, and he quickly turned around and mutter something inaudible into the phone. He put it down softly.

"I apologize," Arthur said tiredly, his back still to Alfred's. "For the intrusion in your lesson time."

"Who was that?"

Arthur turned around, his eyes dark. "Shall we continue the lesson?"

"A-Arthur, I..."

"Or would you like to go home for today? I'm fine with either, we've made decent progress - for _you_ , at least - today."

"Hey!" Alfred pouted as a smirk grew on Arthur's face. "What does _that_ mean?"

"Do you want to continue or not?" Arthur asked flatly, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Alfred knew better than to question him further, and nodded several times.

But wanted to find out who Arthur was talking to. Who had made him...who had made him look like that.

He just _had_ to.


End file.
